


Special

by whenyoudesertme (phrenk)



Category: Arashi (Band), Japanese Actor RPF, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrenk/pseuds/whenyoudesertme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiba decides to cook a romantic meal for Jun, who fears for his kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted [here](http://whenyoudesertme.livejournal.com/23330.html). A short fic to get back into the swing of things! I'm doing Nanowrimo, so I've been writing a lot, but I've missed writing other things. This crosses Aiba/Jun off my to-do list at long last.

"Just sit down, Matsujun," Aiba scolded, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. His severe expression contrasted with his frilly white apron in a way that would have amused Jun if he weren't so frustrated.

"Aiba-chan," he started again, trying to coax even though he knew it was coming out more of an irritated order. "Just let me cook dinner. I know my kitchen, and--"

"No. I mean, yes, you know your kitchen, but no, this is a special day, and I want to cook for you."

"I could at least come and watch--"

"NO," Aiba said again. "Just sit there. And wait. It's romantic."

"That doesn't make any sense," Jun snapped. "Isn't romance being together?"

Aiba turned and went back into the kitchen, ignoring all protests. Jun slumped into the couch, then picked up a magazine and flipped through it fitfully. He was trying to be patient and appreciative, but why did Aiba have to choose something that made it so hard?

*

"All right!"

Aiba's triumphant cry brought a grin to Jun's face, one he didn't try to hide as the cook in question came out with a pan held high over his head by hands safely ensconced in Jun's oven mitts.

"Aiba-chan," Jun said, alarmed. "Not so high, you idiot." He started up off the couch, but too late: Aiba lost his grip on one side of the pan and it crashed down, lasagna coating Jun's wood floors and pan falling onto Aiba's bare feet.

Aiba jumped back, shouting, and Jun came at a sprint, grabbing Aiba's shoulders and pulling him back into the kitchen, not caring about anything else.

"You idiot," he said, trying not to freak out. Aiba was trembling and whimpering, though he immediately tried to put on a brave face.

"Ah, so clumsy, the romance is spoiled," he said shakily. He pulled the oven mitts off (both of which had been presents from him, and both of which, though purchased at different times, were shaped like tigers) and let them drop onto the counter, immediately bending over to inspect his burned feet.

"Don't touch them," Jun said. "Here, can you get up on the counter? Let's run cool water over them, come on."

"I want to see," Aiba said, but he submitted to Jun's tugging and scrambled up on the counter, all long limbs and ginger movements. Jun grabbed all the dirty dishes out of the sink (which he would wash later, not Aiba, he promised himself) and ran the tap. He tested the temperature on his wrist, reaching out with his other arm to smack Aiba's hands away from his feet, and then pulled gently at Aiba's ankles, arranging his feet under the water as best he could.

"Ouch," Aiba whispered. "Ouch, ouch, ouch. I'm sorry about your floors, Jun-chan, and your pan, and your sink, and your dinner. And our special day."

"It's still special," Jun said, then backtracked, "That is, if it was special before." At Aiba's sad look he backtracked over his cowardly backtracking, and said, "It was special, and it is special."

"Because?" Aiba prompted, smiling a little, not one to let such an opportunity go by.

"Because," Jun said, frowning at him, then smiling helplessly. "It's our twelve-year anniversary."

"That's Arashi," Aiba said. "And that's important, and special, but what else, Matsujun?" His teasing was capped with a little hiss, presumably as his burn twinged. Jun peered into the sink, worried. The burn seemed to be much worse on one foot than the other. Aiba's right foot had a light red mark, but his left foot was splotchy and blistering. Jun measured with his mind, wondering if he should take Aiba to a hospital. It looked to be only a couple of inches in diameter, that pan-corner-shaped burn, and he tried not to get anxiously angry at Aiba for injuring himself.

"What else, Matsujun?" Aiba repeated patiently, arms wrapping around his knees to pull himself up to look at his burns.

"Kiss," Jun said shortly. "Two years ago, you kissed me."

"Mm," Aiba agreed. "You were so drunk and happy, saying, 'I'm glad to be in Arashi, I'm glad to be in Arashi,' who could have resisted."

"Well," Jun said, smug. "You also love me." He tried to say it with utter confidence, but Aiba probably heard the gratitude, as well as the tiny undercurrent of insecurity.

"I love you so much that I've burned my feet clear off," Aiba said, straight-faced.

"Shut up."


End file.
